The Heart Asks
by KaKiJo
Summary: It's been a year, the wizarding world is at peace whilst it tries to rebuild itself slowly from the ashes, our hero tries to carry on with life and education but he is struck down with something inescapable through shear, dumb luck. AU/PostWar/Est. H/G
1. Chapter 1

The first time it happened to Harry he was walking back from quidditch practice. He had just started to climb the Entrance Hall's grand staircase when he was struck with the oddest sensation he had ever felt. His chest felt like it was rippling, and his heart seemed to miss several beats. He brought his hand up to try and soothe the feeling but as his placed his palm to his chest a horrible stabbing pain forced itself upon him. He tried to yelp with pain but as he went to take a breath he found that he could not. His ribs felt as if they were bound tightly and trying to take in a lungful of air was impossible. Panic soon swept in and he fell to his knees cursing his stars that he had not followed his team mates back to the common room when they had left the quidditch pitch. Madam Hooch had recently been complaining that quidditch equipment had been going missing so Harry had stayed to ensure that everything went back to its rightful place so the flying teacher would have nothing against him and his house.

What felt like hours must have only been seconds as the sensation, whatever it was, receded rapidly until Harry was left panting on the floor. He stayed still for a moment to catch his breath before moving very slowly, using the banister of the stairs as a crutch, got up. His was baffled as to what that episode was about and was appreciative that someone like Malfoy hadn't turned up which would have made matters about five hundred times worse.

Slowly, but surely Harry climbed the grand staircase. He knew that taking this amount of time would mean he would be forever getting back to the common room but for some reason something told him that going any faster would be risky, if not down right dangerous. As he climbed he contemplated calling in to see Madam Pomfrey but quickly quashed that idea as he knew the Nurse would do nothing but fuss over him. Besides he was fairly sure that it was only the result of an arduous quidditch practice. He didn't want to make the nurse waste her time with this when she could be dealing with any number of more valuable things.

His journey to the common room was long, but luckily without incidence. His was slightly out of breath from the walk but managed to get it back under control before he finally reached the Fat Lady's portrait. He spoke the password quietly and entered the common room with caution and fortunately for him it had taken him so long to get to the Gryffindor tower that it meant that the common room was almost empty save for a few fourth years fussing over homework and a relaxed looking Ron and Hermione occupying the comfy chairs by the fire.

The looked up at him with a little concern but seemed appeased when he explained, rather lied, that he had almost been accosted by Filch so had to lay low for a ten minutes as his excuse for being late. He didn't want to worry Ron and Hermione with his episode just as with the school nurse, after all when he woke up in the morning he would most likely feel right as rain. He explained that he was feeling tired, the truth this time, and so wanted to head for bed as soon as possible. They nodded in agreement and got up to follow him. Hermione bid them goodnight and made her way up the girls' stairs while Ron and Harry climbed their own staircase to their dorm room.

To make it look like there was nothing the matter, he climbed the stairs at a pace that matched Ron's. This however was a fast one as he had very long legs and by the time Harry reached their bedroom he was as tired as he had been on the much longer trek from the Entrance Hall. Ron noticed this and asked if Harry was feeling alright, Harry answered with the affirmative and waved of Ron's concern with the explanation that quidditch had taken it out of him.

Once changed they bid each other goodnight and settled into bed. Harry was keenly worried about the incident in the Entrance Hall as he now called it but his exhaustion overtook and him and within minutes of lying down he was fast asleep.

The next morning Harry was feeling much better and let his chest troubles the night before leave his head so he could get down to his school work and socialising.

It wasn't until a few days later, late on a Friday afternoon in a stuffy potions classroom that the thought entered his mind. They had been making, or at least attempting to,

A dreamless sleep potion. Whilst Hermione was having moderate success with her endeavours the rest of the class was lagging far behind. None more so than poor Harry and his Ravenclaw partner. Their cauldron was spitting angry red sparks every which way where it should have been issuing soft bellows of turquoise vapour and they had to keep jumping to avoid their furious spray.

Snape was prowling and soon came across Harry and his partner's poor excuse for a potion. He embarked on deriding everything to do with Harry's part in the potion making process and as he went on was ensuring that Harry got as worked up as possible. Snape through in some poor dog references and sure enough Harry went a deep shade or red trying to refrain from barking back at his professor.

Whilst Snape continued to mock his efforts the familiar rippling and fluttering thrust itself upon Harry and he soon found himself taking a step back. He had been standing to make his potion but felt that his legs could no longer support him so sat heavily upon the seat behind him. Snape has something to say about this, but an odd rushing in Harry's ears had started and it was hard to concentrate on the things around him. His breathing became laboured again and he felt the tightening of his chest. Unlike last time it didn't stop after a thirty seconds and his world started dimming with the lack of oxygen.

At this point Harry didn't know what was going on and so started to seriously panic. His mind was running away with him and he was sure that this was what dying felt like. He couldn't see his life flashing before his eyes but he felt sure that unless somebody did something he soon would be.

People swam in and out of his vision and he was vaguely aware that he had made his way to the floor. His senses told him that there was a hand on his chest and it took him a while to realise that it was his hand. He tried to say something, anything to get someone to help but nothing made it past his air-starved throat. As everything started to go balck he could hear someone shrieking in the distance to go and the nurse. Finally someone was doing something.

His last conscious thought was not of his time on Earth nor anything about how much his friends meant to him rather the concern that if he died nobody would be around to feed Hedwig. With that thought he passed out on the cold stone floor of the potions classroom with the whole class looking on with worry at the fallen Boy-Who-Lived.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry slowly became aware of the world around him there were soft hurried voices conversing back and forth somewhere above him. It sounded as if here were underwater, steadily rising to the surface as they became clearer by the second. They were briskly discussing something, it sounded stressful as their voices sounded strained and worried.

It took a further few seconds to realise that he was lying flat on a soft surface and he could smell disinfectant in the air. He put two and two together quickly and realised that he must have found his way to the hospital wing again. He couldn't quite remember why he was there as the last thing he could recall was that he was sitting in the potions labs. He assumed that he was there because of some kind of explosion.

Harry felt drained, absolutely exhausted. He felt as if he had been running a marathon for the past week without rest. He wasn't aware that you could feel that tired without actually being asleep. The voices around him were starting to grate on his nerves, he just wanted to drift back into dreamland but the voices above him and the smell of the hospital wing were distracting him from completing that task. He decided that he should let the rude people know how much he wanted to sleep so thought opening his eyes would be a good idea. Boy was he wrong.

It took all his strength fro him to pry his dry eyelids apart, and as soon as he had he dearly wished he had not. The bright white light of the ward seared his retinas and practically blinded him, he had to blink three or four times to get his vision back. Everything was a blur but the strenuous little act had brought the attention of the surrounding people to him. The gazed down on him and from the blurred figures they cut in Harry's poor eyesight they looked like Professors Snape and Dumbledore. Snape seemed to be as grumpy and sour as ever, probably annoyed that someone had blown up the lab and Dumbledore seemed to sag slightly.

Dumbledore was stood nearest to the head of the bed and he leaned forward to pick up Harry's glasses off the bedside table. He brought them up to Harry's face and as soon as they had been placed upon Harry's nose the world came into proper view. Harry could see Snape had a dour look on his face, he seemed as put out as he usually did but there was a hint on concern in his gaze. It shouldn't be taken the wrong way however as it wasn't a huge amount but as Harry rarely saw it cross the man's features it was obvious when it did arise.

Dumbledore was more obvious with his emotions, there was clear concern and worry written all over the man's features and body language. He looked as if he carried a huge burden, more so than usual.

Dumbledore bent to sit on the chair sitting next to Harry's bed. Harry went to follow him with his gaze but found that his head was incredibly heavy and it took a huge amount of energy to tilt his head slightly to the right. Harry was getting frustrated with his lack of energy; surely if he had been in a potions accident he would not still be feeling this awful. Dumbledore must have found confusion in Harry's gaze as he spoke up for the first time since Harry opened his eyes, "How are you feeling my boy?" His words were measured and the usual benevolence within his eyes was absent, something must be wrong.

Harry took in a breath to answer the professor's question but as he did so if felt as if someone had plunged a knife deep into his chest. He was taken aback by the sudden, intense pain and it took a few moment of slow, measured breathing to get relax himself once more.

"Well, that seems to answer the question. Obviously the boy is not well enough for idle chit chat." Now that was odd, there wasn't a curse to anything associated with the Potter name in those words, something terrible must have happened. Harry was suddenly struck with the terrible thought that he might have lost a limb of the feeling in his legs. After a mental check of all his facilities assured him that he had full use of his limbs he mentally calmed. He may not have had the energy to move any of his limbs, but he was sure he would be able to if he could.

Dumbledore started to speak once more, "Harry, do you remember much of what happened to you in the potions classroom?" At Harry's perplexed look Dumbledore continued, "You collapsed in Professor Snape's class Mr. Potter. You caused quite a commotion and as you seem to be recovering still we will leave you for now. The questioning can continue later this evening perhaps."

Dumbledore gave him a soft smile and rose gently from the seat beside the bed. Professor Snape continued to look as he usually did though the concern remained. He turned and moved behind the curtain that Harry had only now realised screened his bed from the rest of the hospital wing. Dumbledore bent slightly to grasp and squeeze a Harry's limp right hand smiling softly once more. He turned to leave and spoke softly as he left "Sleep well Harry."

It wasn't even a minute after the wizards had left before Harry felt his eyelids turn to lead and they closed leaving him to drift to dreamland once more.

The lights were low the next time Harry managed to pry his eyes open and this time there was only a gentle beep sounding that Harry must have missed the last time he was awake. The lights were low and there was a soft orange glow coming from the window next to Harry's bed. It cast a pleasant glow on the surrounding room, not that Harry could see much of it as although the curtain had been pulled back, he didn't have his glasses and everything was one big orange blur.

Now he felt more rested though he was still far from energetic. He moved his head from side to side as his neck felt rather stiff and it was only now he realised he was really thirsty. Scratch that he was parched. In an attempt to find some kind of liquid to soothe his coarse throat he lifted his head slightly off the pillow. While it still drained him enormously to do so it was, this time, possible.

Someone was sitting in the chair that Dumbledore has occupied earlier in the day. They had moved in response to Harry lifting his head and bent over the table beside the bed. Harry found that although he could lift his head now it wasn't for a particularly long time and he found himself lowering his head back down and staring at the ceiling. His glasses were slipped gently over his eyes and he found himself looking into the face of Ginny Weasley.

She looked as though she had a lot on her mind. She was smiling at Harry but there was something behind her eyes that told him all was not well. Harry had the bad feeling that he was the cause of the worry. Feeling guilty for making people worry he tried to apologise and tried to clear his throat. He made to say sorry but all he managed was a small grunt. He then realised that trying to talk with a very dry throat was like rubbing sandpaper, not pleasant at all.

Licking his lips and swallowing hard he tried again, this time he managed a pathetic "S'ry…"

Ginny, seemingly able to understand jumped slightly and reached over for a cup with straw poking out of the top. She brought it to Harry's lips but when Harry eagerly leaned in to grasp the straw she pulled it back slightly to warn him, "Slowly, you don't want to make yourself sick." She said it with a tender smile and once again moved the straw close. Harry was eternally grateful to her and felt rather ashamed that she had to do this for him. He sipped the water gently and when he felt satisfied she took the cup away again.

Harry sighed and felt a twinge in his chest and whilst it was nothing like he had felt the first time he woke up it was rather uncomfortable. He winced slightly and he saw Ginny sit up slightly higher in the chair she had once again taken place in. Harry was feeling even more ashamed of himself by that point. Here he was lying useless in a hospital bed worrying everyone out of their minds. Again he made a move to apologise but was cut off almost immediately by Ginny saying "Don't be silly Harry, you've got nothing to be sorry for."

Harry realised he was fighting a losing battle here and decided that for now keeping his apologies to himself, however justified he felt they were, was a good idea. Instead he chose to find out more about why he was here. After all he still couldn't quite remember what had happened that had caused his hospitalisation. Gathering his strength his asked, "What…happened?..." He had to take breaths between words as his chest still felt like someone had wrapped it tightly, something else that made him uncomfortable.

Ginny sat up again and gathered her words before she spoke softly, "You were in potions four days ago and you collapsed. Don't you remember any of it Harry?" She looked even more concerned now but as she said those words his mind appeared to click into place. He could feel himself back in the potions classroom. He remembered feeling that tingly, tight sensation in his chest. He remembered not being able to breathe and the horrible pain spreading like wildfire like someone dragging a knife through his chest.

His breath hitched as he recalled every detail, he descended into panic once more as he worked himself up about his latest predicament. He thought back to the time after quidditch practice, when he almost didn't make it back to the common room. Maybe, he thought, if he had come to see Madam Pomfrey then this wouldn't have happened.

Seeing Harry's ever increasing distress Ginny leaned in and grasped Harry's hand in hers. She squeezed Harry come back into the present and calmed him down almost immediately. It really was amazing what affect she had on him. Harry refocused himself on the present and could hear the racing beep in the background that corresponded to the beat of his heart.

Hearing the racket the beeps were making Madam Pomfrey bustled her way out of her office and rushed to Harry's side. By this point Harry had calmed immensely and this seemed to relax the matron as she approached. She had stern words for Ginny however, "Miss Weasley would you please try not to stress my patient. Did I not make it clear to you that keeping Mr. Potter calm was a priority? What caused this episode?"

Ginny looked at her feet, nobody like to be chastised "I only explained what had happened. I tried to be a clam as possible."

"Never mind dear," an oddly appeasing Madam Pomfrey conceded, "He seems to be settled now. His heart rate is dropping but I think we will sedate him to prevent further events such as these. After all we can't risk it at the moment." She moved closer to the head of Harry's bed as she had stood at the foot previously.

Harry, not appreciating the fact that they were talking of him as if her weren't there spoke up, "What's…going on?" It took a bit of Harry's waning strength but Harry was glad he asked, she had to answer him now.

Pomfrey looked at him with sympathy in her eyes, "Not to worry Harry, you just go back to sleep. It's nothing to concern yourself with at the moment, just relax and we'll tell you when you can take the news in a more appropriate manner." There she was, the normal, no nonsense Madam Pomfrey.

She reached for her wand and before Harry knew it a spell had been cast that sent Harry drifting away once more to the world of dreams.


	3. Chapter 3

His heart was failing. As Harry sat, propped up by several feather pillows, he pondered what Madame Pomfrey was telling him.

It seemed to Harry that his mind was as thick and lethargic as treacle as she said those words. It didn't seem real to him somehow. He seemed to be sitting in a dream – more a nightmare.

The sun was bright and harsh in the sterile room. It was mid-morning and the pale, stark furnishings in the room hurt his eyes. The sky was blue outside and the birds could be heard singing in the trees of the forest. It wasn't right in Harry's mind, he's just been told that his body was failing and yet they continued to sing?

In all those days of war he had not once stopped to think, seriously, that he wouldn't see another day. Of course he knew that was always an option but he didn't let himself entertain those thoughts – they didn't do anyone any good. He had had a job to do, he had a task to complete and there was no way he could have finished, if his every thought was tinged with those feelings.

It had only been a year since the war had concluded with an almighty battle at Hogwarts. There was even talk of it being called 'The Great Battle' as it had raged for days and only ended with the final stroke of Harry's wand.

It turned out the trick to ending Voldemort's reign of terror was nothing more than someone finally taking a stand. Remus had explained it to him that, as he and the entire wizarding world had been brought up to believe that Harry would be the one to end it, it was him and only him that could have given Voldemort what he deserved once and for all.

As he sat on the stiff hospital bed, swamped by overly starched sheets, he contemplated the changes the wizarding world had seen since the war. So many people and their families had been devastated by the war. There had been casualty after casualty and many had died. Diagon Alley and the Ministry were left in utter ruin, there was almost nothing left.

It seemed a very bleak future in those early days. Hogwarts had certainly not go away unscathed, the final battle had been fought on its grounds and the inside looked as if it had been gutted. The whole of the wizarding world seemed to have been brought to its knees – Voldemort wasn't even alive anymore and he had succeeded.

Slowly but surely hope grew. There were stories of families being reunited and wizards slowly rebuilding their lives. The world pulled together and strangers became friends in the fight to regain what was lost.

Wizards helped one another to build a new world, and whilst it was certainly not close to completion, there was an air of defiance among witches and wizards alike.

The Ministry grew stronger brick by brick and the witches and wizards went back to homes once abandoned in fear. Diagon Alley gradually filled with the chatter and banter of commuters and shoppers. Taverns filled once more with the raucous laughter of optimism and it seemed that life was going to get better.

Hogwarts was rebuilt for the new school year and those that had missed years were welcomed back. It finally seemed to Harry that the peace he had been promised was descending and life could carry on without a care. Well, until his NEWTs at least.

He was brought back to reality with a thud. Peace was not something for him he realised and carrying on without a care was a wish to far for him.

Madame Pomfrey took his prolonged silence as a cue to fuss about him. She straightened his already angular sheets and took his limp hand in hers. "Harry, dear, say something. I know this is hard to take in but you've got to understand that I am doing my best to help you."

Harry looked towards the stricken witch and he attempted to smile. She seemed to need comfort more than he did. He rationalised that there was little he could do to help himself – he might as well provide her with a small reassurance.

"It's alright Madame Pomfrey. I understand what you're saying. I know that you're trying to help. I'm just finding it difficult to get my head around it." Harry could see she was very concerned and wished he could make her understand that for the time being he could accept that the situation had not fully hit him.

"Harry, I'm afraid there's more to tell you." Her face crinkled with sympathy and she leaned towards him, as if to offer some consolation for the words to follow. Harry felt his heart speed slightly and there was a pulling in his chest. His breath quickened slightly but he fought to control it. The last time he had lost it, the whole situation became a lot worse. His heart began to slow as he took in deep, trembling breaths.

Madame Pomfrey looked even more troubled, if that were possible, and began to fuss again – Harry was anxious to hear what was to come and hurried to put her mind at ease, "Madame…" he drew in a breath, speaking was tiring nowadays it seemed, "I'm okay…really…please tell me."

She looked unconvinced but Harry could tell that she needed to tell him the news. She cleared her throat and looked straight at him, "You're heart Harry, it's failing as I've said. The damage is irreversible I'm afraid and," She made a choking sound as her eyes filled with tears, Harry did not like where this was going, "I'm so very sorry Harry but there's very little we can do to help you. We can make you comfortable and relieve your pain, but there's nothing more that we can do." She squeezed Harry's cold, pale hand.

He sat there prone as the words sunk in. He admitted to himself that he had known all along. Her tone was so telling when she had informed him his heart was failing. A cold, hard acceptance settled in him – so this was the end.

He swallowed against the lump that had made its way into his throat and attempted to speak. He drew in a heavy breath and asked "What will happen to me? Will it… will it hurt?"

He didn't want any more pain, he was sure of that. Harry hoped that that was what the witch had meant about making him comfortable.

She looked deeply into his eyes, and saw the tenuous grip Harry had on the situation. She knew she needed to reassure him that his last months would be pleasant and free of suffering.

"We will be able to make you as comfortable as possible, that means we can stop any pain that you may feel and help you breathe a little better. There are potions and spells that we can use to help relieve the pain in your chest and ease your breathing but there's nothing we can do to reverse the damage to your heart or fix it. I'm so very sorry Harry – truly I am".

She squeezed his hand once more and rose from beside the bed. She recognised that Harry needed some time.

Harry watched Madame Pomfrey leave with weary eyes. He had known it but it did not make the news any more welcome. He could feel his eyes burning with tears and he let them fall – knowing that this was only the first of many tears to come.

It would be easy to say that his mind was reeling from the events but, if he was honest with himself, there was only one thing he could think about now. He had let her down so many times and he would have to again. In the worst way.

He loved her. He knew that it was too soon to say such things out loud but in his heart he knew. He had known it for a long time. The tears were falling faster and his breath was hitching. He rubbed at his eyes desperately trying to stem the flow. It wasn't working.

He didn't want to break her heart. The thought of it was breaking his. He thought of her alone and he hated it. He hated that he would never get to grow old, he would never see his children and he would never be able to take Ginny in his arms make her as his wife.

He had the ring – he had bought it just before the final battle had started.

It was the morning before the final battle and he wanted to get away. Muggle London was oblivious to the turmoil inside their very city and he liked the anonymity, he liked that nobody knew that he would either save or destroy an entire world by the next morning.

He had been walking down a muggle side street when something caught his eye. It was only a small glint in a jeweller's window but it had been enough. There was the ring and in that instant he knew – he would marry Ginny Weasley.

He had gone into the shop and purchased the ring. It had been in his robe pocket the whole time, through the battle, the rebuild and the new school year.

He felt ashamed that he had yet to ask her, but with everything that was happening with the Wizarding world he couldn't bring himself to do it. At least, not until he knew that their future was certain, that he could give her everything she wanted and more.

He knew that he could never do that now.

His thoughts turned to his friends, his family. For that was how he saw them. He sobbed for the loss he would suffer. They were his whole world and sooner, rather than later, he would be ripped from it, to never see them again.

He didn't know what that could be like. He didn't know that he could cope with that thought.

The tears were slowing now. They were being replaced with a hollow acknowledgment that his life was no longer his own. The time he had was borrowed and he was soon to be giving it back. His face and mind felt red raw and he settled back into the sheets. Grief was exhausting.

His thoughts drifted from one thing to another as his eyes began to droop. His limbs were heavy and he felt as if he were sinking into the bed.

As he descended into sleep he had one comfort. As the black of dreams approached he thought of how he would finally get to meet his parents. He would see Sirius again.

At this he began to dream of first meetings and warm embraces.

A/N: Really sorry it's so late – I got a tonne of stuff on and blah, blah, blah… no excuses I've missed this and I'm sorry guys. I can't promise it won't happen again but like I said I've missed it so hopefully not! :D x


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